


Finding Clan Lavellan

by wargandproud



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargandproud/pseuds/wargandproud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post game, Lavellan finds her clan.</p><p>Was originally a one off but has morphed into a 'looking for Solas' type thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been weeks of searching the wilds north of the Free Marches before she finally found signs. Weeks of traipsing alone, looking for aravel tracks or halla hoofprints, eating whatever small animals she could catch with her own skill. She never was a good hunter. Sometimes when her belly cried out in protest at this meagre fare she wondered whether she should have brought some of her companions, Sera could have strode off into the woods and emerged with an armful of rabbits, and Iron Bull would have felled a wild boar with one punch.

But no, this was something she must do alone. She had spent too long trying to convince the others of the virtues of the Dalish, and had no wish to drag them kicking and screaming to her people who they were bound to upset anyway. One benefit of Solas’ disappearance was that he was not there to mutter under his breath about the faults of the Dalish, which he always seemed to take as a personal insult.

_No. Do not think of him. He does not get to come to this place with me._

Still, it was lonely. So when she finally found a sign of them, a burnt out bonfire, still warm and littered around with bones from meat, she could have cried with joy. She scouted the area around it and found fresh tracks, which she followed for two more hours until she came across a little girl, naked, and levitating stones into the nearby river.

“Elora?” Lavellan called softly. This girl was her niece. She had been much smaller when she left for the Conclave and she would barely have recognised her if not for the girl’s eyes, which were the same cool blue as her brother’s, the same as her’s too.

Elora snapped to attention, those familiar eyes locking on Lavellan. The girl was frightened, that much was clear. The floating stones fell into the river and she scrambled backwards, her chubby legs struggling to find a foothold in the wet ground.

Lavellan panicked, not a good start to her happy homecoming.

“Elora it’s me,” she tried to keep her tone calm and extended her hand. Had it really been so long? She had left for the conclave not two years before, was that all it had taken to erase her from her niece’s memory?

It was no good. Elora’s eyes filled with tears and her lower lip juddered, “Mamae!” She screamed, and Lavellan flinched. She did not want a troop of hunters descending on her. “Mamae!?” The girl turned tail and ran into the woods, and Lavellan clambered after her, all chance of a quiet entrance gone.

After some minutes she stopped to catch her breath, bent almost double with the effort. She was not used to this. She was just about to recommence her search when someone called out from the trees.

“Terrorising my children da’len? Whatever will the keeper say?”

She stood up slowly, chest still heaving, and caught sight of her brother emerging from the trees with Elora’s hand in his, the girl still looking like she had seen a demon.

She had never been so glad to see her brother in her life. She rushed to him and flung her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his worn wolf pelt, which their father had given him the day he received his vallaslin and she was pretty sure he had never taken off. He laughed breathlessly in her ear and squeezed her tight, the force of it nearly lifting her feet off the ground.

She slapped his arm playfully. “Stop calling me da’len, Mahanon!” It had been his little joke ever since they were children, all because he was two minutes older. For twins the two could not have been more different. Her brother was lean and strong, obedient to the letter, whereas she, well, she wasn’t. And she had magic. That gift should definitely have gone to her brother, he would have made a much better First than she. The gods were strange that way.

Mahanon released her from his grip and stepped back to look at her when he did a double take.

“Fenedis! What happened to your face?!” He gripped her chin tightly between his fingers and turned her head sharply, scanning her skin for any sign of the vallaslin that had been magicked away. 

Shit. She had almost forgotten, she had become so used to seeing her bare face in her looking glass. No wonder Elora didn’t recognise her.

She tried to laugh it off, pushing his hands away gently. “It is a long story brother, not nearly as interesting as you might expect. Is the Keeper near? I have much to discuss with her.”

Mahanon seemed to sense the subject was not to be breached, and bless his heart he took it no further. He had always been her confidante, but he knew her well enough to know when not to ask. There were many times in Skyhold when she had ached for his understanding ear.

They found the Keeper surrounded by the clan’s children, some of whom Lavellan did not recognise. Mahanon called out to her, and when the Keeper saw her her eyes widened in surprise and she cried,

“Da’len!”

Deshanna shooed the children away from their lesson and beckoned her over with the widest smile Lavellan had known the woman make, which was surprising, given the two had not parted on the best of terms. She suspected it may be the host of Inquisition soldiers she had sent when the clan was under attack.

The Keeper made the expected exclamations about her lack of vallaslin, but Lavellan quickly cut her off,

“That is part of why I am here Keeper, I have learned things in my travels about our heritage that I need to share with you. You will want to take it to the Arthlathvhen, this is important.”

Deshanna ‘hmmed’ sagely, “Very well. Come, we shall discuss it somewhere quieter.” She beckoned to Mahanon, “Will you fetch Hahren Ishi? She will want to hear this.”

Mahanon nodded his agreement but when the Keeper’s back was turned he made a quizzical face at Lavellan, making her giggle. Hahren Ishi was the old Keeper, old being the correct term. They joked that the woman was as old as Asha Bellenar herself, completely deaf and half mad to boot. But Deshanna had always insisted on including her in discussions of elven culture out of respect, regardless of whether the Hahren could actually hear them.

While they waited, Deshanna looked her over, her nose wrinkling in slight disapproval.

“Wearing shoes I see? Have your ears flattened while you were away?”

Oh. She had forgotten that too. It hadn’t actually occurred to her to take them off. Perhaps The Inquisition had changed her more than she knew. Still, she bristled at the comment. The two had always had a slightly antagonistic relationship.

“I am still myself Keeper, regardless of the softness of my feet.”

The Keeper had just opened her mouth when Mahanon wheeled the Hahren between them, probably sensing an argument.

“Here you are Hahren!” He loudly announced his arrival, cutting off any response of Deshanna’s. He made sure the Hahren’s wheeled chair was secure before turning to Lavellan and mouthing- _behave_. She rolled her eyes at him. As he was leaving Ishi proclaimed in her raspy voice,

“Come here da'len, let me see you.” She crooked a branch like finger at her, and Lavellan obliged, crouching infront of the old woman. Hahren Ishi had been ancient ever since Lavellan was a little girl, but now she truly looked like an errant gust of wind would send her scattering to the breeze. The Hahren looked at her with her misty eyes and placed her tiny hand on her cheek. Then, with surprising strength for such an old woman, the Hahren drew back her palm and slapped Lavellan across the face.

Lavellan let out a cry, causing Mahanon to turn on his heel and back to her side. He rushed to her, his eyes wide with concern. It hadn’t hurt, not physically, but it had taken her by surprise.

Deshanna stared at Ishi. “What are you doing Ha-“

“Get her away!” The old woman hissed.

Lavellan was stunned, the Hahren had barely said three words to her before now. “I don’t under-“

“GET AWAY.” The Hahren was screeching now, her voice sounded like it may give out at any moment. “Get her away. Get her away. She is marked by the Dread Wolf.” Ishi began to wheeze. “Begone, demon! She has lain with the beast, she is cursed, she will bring doom upon us all.” The old woman's cries descended into coughs, but still she gesticulated wildly at Lavellan, spit flying from the corners of her broken lips. 

Lavellan clutched her cheek in shock. She looked at Deshanna, whose horror was clearly written upon her face, but who said nothing. 

“What is she talking about?” Lavellan asked. “I have lain with no beasts.” She laughed, but couldn’t believe she was saying these words. 

“Perhaps I should take the Hahren back to her aravel?” Mahanon ventured.

“No.” The Keeper finally answered. “Escort your sister from here. Far from here. She is not to return.” Deshanna did not meet her eye. She looked terrified.

“What?” Lavellan’s jaw dropped in surprise. Was she really being banished from her own people?

“Keeper,” Mahanon’s voice was thin. He placed his hands protectively on Lavellan’s shoulders, “You can’t mean this, surely? Because of the ramblings of an old woman?” He had never talked back to the Keeper before. Ever. He was the golden boy, the shining example of how to be a good Dalish elf.

Dehsanna shook her head and glared at her brother.

“Do not ever disrespect my commands da’len. If you won’t do it I will fetch a hunter to do so.”

 “I will not. This is madness.”

Too baffled to speak, Lavellan covered Mahanon’s hand with her own. While his hands were sure, she realised that hers were shaking. The Keeper screamed the names of some of the clan’s hunters, some of whom Lavellan had known since she was a girl.

When they arrived Deshanna barked at them, “Get her away from here. If she tries to come back, kill her.” Lavellan made to protest but she felt a strong hand shove Mahanon away and yank her backwards. Why was this happening? What had she done?

Mahanon was on the ground, stunned. A hunter, one of their cousins, pushed him back down with his foot when he tried to stand. Their eyes met and Lavellan had never seen him look so confused.

“I don’t understand.” She cried. Mahanon made to stand but their cousin kicked him again, hard, sending him onto his back. 

She committed his face to memory. She would not be back.

 

* * *

 

Lavellan sat alone in the rotunda, leaning on the unoccupied desk and gazing at the murals on the walls. She was snapped from her reverie by the creaking of the door, which Dorian emerged through. He seemed shocked at her presence there. She had made a point of avoiding this room thus far.

“Inquisitor!” He exclaimed, sounding happy to see her. “I did not know you were back, you usually come for a drink with us when you return from the field.”

She nodded, but said nothing in reply. Dorian seemed to sense something was wrong, because he came and sat on the desk beside her.

“Did you find your clan?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I did not,” she lied. “They were gone. They had moved on.”

She couldn’t get the Hahren’s words out of her mind. She had been scouring Solas’ books for any mention of the Dread Wolf, but found him conspicuously absent from his collection. But it was one part in particular that haunted her.

_She has lain with the beast._

She didn’t understand. It had been her refrain for the last few days. She didn’t understand and she would never understand because the person who explained this shit to her had gone after promising he would tell her everything, and now she was banished from her home too. She would not see her brother as an old man, would not teach her niece how to properly craft a staff. She could try going back, but she knew the hunters would kill her. Whether they agreed or not, the Keeper’s word was law. To her dismay the thought brought tears to her eyes.

 _Never let them see you cry da’len_. Her brother’s voice echoed in her mind. He had told her that when caught an older boy calling her names. He had seemed more annoyed at her weakness than the name-calling.

No-one in The Inquisition had seen her cry. Yet now she broke into sobs, huge ones that shook her whole body and that Josephine would have swept her out of sight for, lest anyone see the cracks in the Façade of Andraste’s Herald.

Dorian’s eyes widened in alarm and he placed an arm over her shoulder. “I’m sure Leliana can track them down again?” he ventured, trying to be helpful.

She shook her head and the tears kept on falling. She tried to speak but her sobbing had left her breathless. She tried wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“I’ll- I'll _bring doom upon them_. She sent me away.”

She curled into her heaving chest and resumed her sobbing, pushing her forehead to her knees. Dorian pulled her to him and hugged his arms around her, unsure of what to do.

“Who did? Why?”

“I- I don’t know.” This wasn't making sense. She took a few deep breaths then started again. “I did find them.”  
  
“So what happened?”

“The Hah- the elder. Said I was cursed. Said Fen’Harel had marked me because I had _lain with the beast_.”

Dorian looked as confused as she felt. “A beast? Who, Solas?”, misunderstanding entirely. He glanced around the walls at the painted murals, perhaps hoping to see the answers she had been searching for since she got back. “How would they even have known about that? The bastard was a good fighter, I’ll give him that, but certainly no beast.”

_Maybe Dorian wasn't misunderstanding._

Lavellan’s mouth opened in horror as a piece slotted into place in her overtired mind. She said nothing, her tongue weighed heavy in her mouth.

_No._

She pushed away from the desk, wiped her tears from her face with trembling fingers. She turned to face Dorian who looked more baffled than ever.

_That is madness. That can’t be true._

_No._

_Nononononononono._

“Where is Cole?”

“His usual spot I think? Are you this inarticulate when you’re speaking to dignitaries?”

She turned on her heel and ran for the door, calling back to Dorian,  
  
“ _I have to find Cole.”_


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn't find Cole, but it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. When he wasn't in the tavern she walked the grounds, wondering if he was helping wounded soldiers perhaps. When she couldn't find him there she bothered her companions, asking if they'd seen him. When none of them knew and she thought she'd try the tavern again, but was stopped by Iron Bull at the door.

"He's not here Inquisitor. You're driving everyone crazy, either come and have a drink or get lost"

At that she stalked back to the rotunda in umbrage and occupied herself searching through Solas' desk for any clues. She was so convinced of her theory, but she desperately hoped it wasn't true. If Solas was what she thought he was then her clan was a very small problem indeed. Part of her knew she should go to bed and pick up the search tomorrow, she hadn’t slept since returning from the field at dawn and the rotunda was beginning to slowly empty as its denizens headed for the tavern, but she knew she’d just be lying awake staring at the ceiling.

 Alas, the desk gave up nothing of interest. The drawers were empty except for a random assortment of trivia, some bundles of herbs and scrap pieces of parchment. She was crouched on the ground feeling in the back of the bottom drawer when she heard a slight click. 

 Her heart started to hammer in her ears, all her tiredness forgotten. She lifted the bottom of the drawer and felt beneath it, and lo and behold there was something inside. She pulled it out with some manoeuvring, and was shocked to see it was Solas' sketchbook. 

 He'd never let her look through this before, no matter how much she pestered. Part of her would feel strange about searching through it, as though he was going to appear behind her at any moment. 

  _Well he did disappear without so much as a second word, so one peek won’t hurt._

She slid fully onto the ground and opened the slim leather sketchbook with a pang of guilt. Most of the drawings were fairly nondescript, sketches planning the rotunda mural, some of the scenery outside Skyhold. There were a few of her companions, Cole captured in a rare smile, one of Varric telling a story to an enraptured Cassandra, which made Lavellan giggle despite herself. 

 And oh Creators, there were ones of her. A lot, actually, some sketches and some that were partially coloured. With a surge of embarrassment she spotted the drawing she'd made Solas _swear_ not to show anyone, and glanced upwards to make sure Dorian wasn't spying.

 "It wasn’t your fault, the Keeper was just scared"

 Lavellan nearly jumped out of her skin. She slammed the book shut and hurriedly slapped it on the floor, glancing behind her to the source of the voice. When she saw nothing and looked back Cole was directly in front of her, making her jump again.

" _Fenedhis_ Cole, we talked about that." 

 Cole ignored her, pushing up onto the desk and sitting on it, his thin legs swinging. 

 "You're hurting," he said, that wide brimmed hat covering his eyes as usual. "You've been crying. I've never seen you cry before," his head cocked to one side. "Please don't cry." 

 Lavellan huffed impatiently, there would be time to sort through her emotions later. She stood up and kicked the book under the table. She must remember to dispose of that drawing later.

 She took a breath and tried to steady her shattered nerves. "Cole, I need to know, was Solas like us?" One rarely needed to bother with pleasantries when speaking to Cole.

 Cole shook his head. "I don't know what you mean. What are we like?" 

 "Was he a person? The same as we’re people?"

 He looked confused and frowned at his hands. "I think so. He was sad inside". He took his hat off and ruffled his hands through his hair, this had been harder for him since he became more human. "There was something…”

Cole fell silent for a few moments trying to remember, and Lavellan struggled not to shake him. She’d buried her pain at Solas’ disappearance but the events with her clan and w _hat he may be w_ as too much. She needed to know. Now. She was done waiting.

 Cole straightened and smiled like the children of her clan had done when they got a word of elven right, the thought hitting her like a punch in the gut. “Sometimes when I looked at him he had three eyes." 

 It took her every effort not to react. Once Cole saw you were emotional about a topic there was no way to keep him talking about it. She was suddenly very aware of her breathing, the sound of which seemed to fill the room. 

  _Shit_.  _Shit shit shit shit._

 He wasn’t done. "He was happier when he was around you. The Thing, the terrible Thing, it seemed less important around you. It's why he had to leave." 

 She couldn’t help it, she let out a sharp gasp and slapped her hand over her mouth. She felt tears pricking in the corner of her eyes for the second time that day and quickly blinked them away.

  _Oh gods what have I done._

Cole’s eyes widened in panic and he shook his head. "No don't cry please don't cry," and without thinking Lavellan reached forward and pulled him into a hug. She felt the boy freeze in her arms and wondered if she'd crossed a line. 

 "What is this?" His voice was muffled as his mouth was angled strangely against the side of her head. 

 "A hug, it's a...person thing."  

 "Oh." Just when she thought it couldn't get more awkward he wrapped his skinny arms around her and rested them lightly on her shoulders. "It's nice." 

 She pulled away after a moment and wiped her eyes

 "Did I help?" Cole asked, his face hopeful. "I don't know how people make their friends feel better" 

 "You did Cole, thank you." 

 "You should go to sleep. You’re tired." 

 "You're right." 

 

* * *

 

 

"You should really go to bed Inquisitor, you look exhausted." 

"Stop trying to change the subject Varric."

The dwarf closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So lemme get this straight," he said for the third time. “You think Chuckles is a-“

Lavellan straightened in her chair. Her earth shattering moment of clarity was beginning to sound preposterous as she involved more people. However, she had chosen this path, so she must walk it, with or without her dignity. She had found Varric in the tavern and pulled him away from his storytellings, something he enjoyed immensely, so she had better make this sound convincing if she wanted to get her way.

“A god.” She folded her arms, almost daring Varric to argue. “Kind of. I don’t know exactly what that means. Like Flemeth.”

“And I thought I liked tall tales,” Varric sighed. “Has it occurred to you Princess, that you may just have gotten dumped? I mean the guy was an asshole about it, sure, but this seems kind of far-fetched, and that’s me talking.”

“That’s not what this is about Varric.”

“Then what is it about? Because it seems like you wanna go off on some wild goose chase to find your boyfrie-“

Lavellan slammed down her cup, causing the ceramic to cave in on itself and crack.

“VARRIC,” she yelled, not something she often did. Varric seemed unimpressed, but a few in the tavern turned to stare. “My and Solas’ relationship is not my motivation.” Her face soured when she saw Varric’s raised eyebrow.

She leaned back in her chair and took a breath. “Okay, okay maybe I’d like to find him so I can strangle the bastard,” she threw the remains of her cup against the wall where it shattered, then with a flick of her wrist the pieces rushed back to her hand and reassembled. Varric rolled his eyes at her, she knew he thought she was showing off. He was one to talk. 

“But Varric I need to know. If I could know that all the stories of our gods are true, if I could take something like this to the arlathvhan, it could change things for my people forever.“

“The what?”

Lavellan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If this was some human concern there would have been dozens of folk desperate to help her. As it was, she had to make do.

“The meeting of all the clans,” she explained slowly. “It happens once every ten years, we share tales of our culture.”

“Okay, let’s say hypothetically that Chuckles is this Fen’Haren-“

“Fen’Harel,” she corrected, hating herself for doing so.

Varric sighed yet again. “ _Whatever._ I don’t understand why it’s so important that you want to go bothering _a god_ as you think he is apparently. We’ve already dealt with one, and he was just a wannabe, I don’t wanna wake up tomorrow and find that Chuckles has caused the apocalypse because you pissed him off. I’ve had enough demons for one lifetime.” Varric propped his short legs on a nearby chair and crossed them. It was clear he thought the conversation done.

Was it hell done. “Varric, once my people walked the earth like _gods_. Now we are property, we rot in city slums, or posture in the woods playing pretend at a life we can’t even dream of. If there’s the slightest chance that we could regain what we lost-“

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. What do you want from me anyway? Isn’t Dorian the one always in the library?”

Lavellan grinned at her small victory, leaning over the table. “I don’t need books. You said you had spies, like Leliana's? I need them to find someone.”

“If Leliana’s spies can’t help you then mine certainly can’t.”

She shook her head. “Leliana has refused to help me. She says if Morrigan doesn’t want to be found…“ She had left out the part about  _I think my ex-lover is a demigod_ with her though. She wasn't quite ready for that development.

“Morrigan? The witch? Flemeth’s daughter?” Varric let out a low whistle. “That’s gunna be tough.”

“Yes. I need her. There are things I need to know, but she _took the knowledge of my people_ then disappeared into the night.” That was another loss to be lain at Solas' door. Part of her had wanted more than anything to drink from the well herself but when she saw the elf's face she couldn't do it, he wanted so desperately to protect her. She had been saved from being bound to Mythal, but she still wondered if it would have been a worthwhile sacrifice. 

Varric laughed. “She’s human, what do you expect? They’ll learn as much as they can about our shit so they can all pat each other’s backs about how smart they all are, then do nothing to help you out. Maybe buy a few of you to empty their chamber pot so they have more time to ponder the history they stole from you.”

Lavellan had to agree. “She knew of the eluvians,” she raised a hand to silence Varric who opened his mouth, probably to ask what that was. “I let a shemlen take what should belong to my people, and I have to fix it.” Had her Keeper known what she had let slip through her fingers she would never have forgiven her. Then again, her and Deshanna weren't likely to have a lengthy conversation on the matter any time soon. 

Varric waited in silence after she’d finished, his arms folded behind his head.

“What?” Lavellan eventually asked.

“Can I talk now?”

She let her head fall onto the table theatrically. “Oh by the creators.”

“Okay, what I was going to say was, does it have to be Morrigan? Those eluvians, they’re the big mirrors right?”

She glanced up, “Well it’s a bit more complicated than-“

“You know what I mean Princess, stop channelling Solas or I’ll get Cole to shave your head when you’re sleeping. They’re those big carved elven mirror things?”

“Yes.” She bristled with shame at being sharp with Varric. “I’m sorry, I just-“

Varric waved the apology away with a flick of his wrist. “It’s okay, you haven’t gotten laid in a while, you’re tense.” She shot him a filthy look and he laughed. “I’m kidding I’m kidding. All I’m saying is, if it doesn’t have to be Morrigan you speak to, then I might know someone who can help.”

Lavellan pointed a finger at Varric. “I swear if you say Hawke-“

“ _Not Hawke._ One of our friends from Kirkwall. This seems right up her alley.” Varric paused for a moment. “One thing, how do you feel about blood mages?”

“Neutral.”

Varric clapped. “Excellent. I’ll write some letters.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Why didn’t you write to me before now Varric?” Varric’s friend Merril had arrived in the night, and Lavellan had spent most of the morning filling her in on the events of the previous months.

Varric shrugged and propped his legs up on the tavern table. “Honestly Daisy I was too busy trying not to get killed to stop and think much about elven history.”

Merril sighed and turned to Lavellan, who knew what the next question would be before it was asked and braced herself. “So what happened to the Well of Sorrows?” as she made a small note in a book.

Bristling with shame, Lavellan answered, “The witch Morrigan drank from it, and we haven’t seen her since. I was hoping to keep her on as an advisor but she had other ideas.” She had been so close to drinking herself but drawn back at Solas’ pleas. Had he ended things with her before then things might have been different, and Varric’s friend might not have needed to cross Thedas to share her knowledge.

Echoing The Inquisitor’s thoughts, Merril’s head fell into her hands. “That should have been one of our people.”

Lavellan nodded, refusing to meet Merril’s eye. “It should, I know, and I’m sorry.” Varric looked quizzical when he heard her apology, but said nothing.

“It’s done now and we have to make do with what we have.”

Merril noded glumly. “So you really think it’s possible that Fen Harel could be a person?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Varric interjected. “Someone fill me in.” He’d stayed with them while they talked, slowly sipping his ale, but he looked more and more confused as time wore on.

Merril idly played with a ring on her finger. “The story says that Fen Harel tricked the elven gods and locked them away.”

“Solas mentioned a few times about not trusting others to lead, and of how power corrupts. Perhaps it wasn’t an evil act, perhaps he thought he was helping?” Solas hated the Dalish, that was true, but she had a hard time believing he would have intentionally doomed all elves to lives of servitude.

“So do you think that he’s trying to undo his mistake? Things haven’t been so great for us since the gods abandoned us. Where do you think he might be?”

“My only idea was The Crossroads,” Lavellan mused. Maybe the gods are locked away using eluvians? Solas had seemed very interested in them, and had spent many an hour 'researching' Morrigan's. She had wracked her brain since this revelation occurred to her and she could think of no other place. She just needed a way to get there, now that Morrigan had left.

Merril nodded matter of factly. “Okay so let’s go there and see."

Lavellan was taken aback. “It’s that easy?”

“Yes, I have one in my house.” She said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Lavellan felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Cassandra. She couldn't decide whether to hug Varric for getting her in contact with Merril, or strangle him for not mentioning her sooner. As it was, she put her hand on his shoulder and leaned into him. “Varric, I love this girl.”

Merill blushed while Varric laughed. “So we’re going on a road trip then?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, but quietly. I’ll ask Dorian to come, other than that let’s not draw attention to it.” Dorian was her best friend, and despite his loud mouth, could be trusted to keep a secret when it was really necessary.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea Princess.”

“Me either, but there’s only one way to find out.”

* * *

 

The fire crackled half-heartedly, the small group around it shivering but none making a move to feed it. It had been a long day of travelling, but Merril guessed they’d be in Kirkwall by tomorrow. The Inquisitor sat leaning against a moss covered rock, flicking absently through some old tome. Merril was knitting some bizarrely shaped sock, needles clicking rhythmically, Varric sat scribbling notes into a weather beaten old notebook (which was sure to please Cassandra) and Dorian hadn't said much for quite some time.

"Are you alright Dorian?" Lavellan asked, her voice low. "It’s not like you to be so quiet." Dorian sighed and scratched the side of his head. He turned to her but didn’t quite meet her eye.

"Don't get angry at me."

"Oh dear, what have you done now?" She asked sarcastically.

"It’s not what _I’ve_ done... I know we're going to find Solas to find out about the elven gods for your people and all that, which is an honourable goal, but I have to ask, is this a one way trip for you?"

Lavellan hesitated. She couldn’t say that thought hadn’t crossed her mind. "Why would it be a one way trip?"

“Well if Merril is right and Solas is trying to let the old gods loose, are we trying to stop him or are we going to help?”

“Honestly I don’t know. But I have to do the best for my people, whatever that may be.”

Dorian frowned at that, “You think so highly of them after what they did to you?”

"Not really. I miss my brother, but the rest didn't like me very much. I never wanted to be First and didn't make a secret of it. But I have hope that things might be better, one day."

"Why do you care?" Varric asked. He had closed his notes and was instead looking at her, reclining against his bedroll. "Screw ‘em, they made their choice when they threw you out. That's the problem at Orzammar, clinging to the past never makes the future any better"

Merril's large eyes poked over her knitting. “That’s a very human thing to say Varric, ‘oh move on, don’t think too hard about when you weren’t slaves’.”

Everyone looked at Dorian, the only human present, for input. He threw his hands up and shook his head vehemently. "Oh no, you're not getting the Tevinter mage to weigh in on Elven politics. I still haven't recovered from your friend Fenris." The elf had visited Varric a few months back and hadn't been as tolerant as Lavellan. Dorian’s claims that his family's slaves were treated well had not been successful, and Lavellan had not deigned to come to her friends defence on that occasion, thoroughly enjoying the display. Behind her needles Merril was smirking.

Varric laughed then continued, "All I'm saying is, if your old gods are free, this war we just had will be nothing compared to what's coming. If they were shitty enough that Solas locked them away in the first place, and they've had a thousand years to stew over it..." He trailed off, but Lavellan didn't need to hear the rest to imagine the scene.

"So what are you saying?" She asked, "Screw the elves to benefit the majority?"

"Funny that an elven leader should be expected to do that when no human has ever done so." Merril chimed in. "I mean just look at Anders, and we all still like him.” She paused, “Except Fenris."

Varric balled up a piece of parchment and aimed it at her head. "I liked it better when you didn’t talk back Daisy. I just want as few people to get hurt as possible. I’m sick of worrying about you assholes."

Dorian placed his hand on his chest and performed a mock swoon, "Oh Varric I’m touched". He ducked, narrowly avoiding Varric’s second ball of parchment.

"Whatever. Just let me know if you start the end times so I can haul ass as far away as possible." He turned over and pulled his thick blanket around him, waving them away.

Dorian watched the dwarf shaped lump of blanket absently for a few moments, then pointed out, "You still didn’t answer my question."

Lavellan sighed. "I suppose Solas will tell us, if we find him, but I do know my people cannot continue the way they are now. Our lives were not so different Dorian. Dalish value mage bloodlines as-much as the Tevinters do, and I wasn't able to escape like you."

Lavellan had been the only mage child in her clan for quite some time. They needed a second in case anything happened to her, so Keeper Deshanna had given her like livestock to her son, as he had the potential for magic in his blood. She had cried for a week afterwards when she was told. He was strong and handsome, and all the girls of the clan wanted him, but Lavellan felt nothing but revulsion when he touched her.

"What would you do if you could stop what happened to you happening to another Tevinter child?” She thought faintly of Mahanon’s daughter, who had started to show signs of magic. The girl would become the replacement First, whether she wanted to or not.

Dorian stared at his hands. “Anything,” he said quietly.

Lavellan sighed and rubbed her face rapidly. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do-.”

Dorian turned to her sharply and snapped, “If you’re going to plunge us arse first into another war and make The Inquisition hunt down its own leader you should give it some thought first. Doesn’t seem the time for an impulsive decision.”

Lavellan did a double take, she had not expected that. “You’d hunt me down?” She asked, drawing back in hurt.

“I wouldn’t. But do you really think Cassandra would allow you to run off with your lover to unleash hell and undo the peace we just achieved? You know if do this the Inquisition’s next target will be you.”

She held back the resounding _"fuck you",_ that was threatening to burst from her lips. Fuming, she stood up and grabbed her bedroll. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

Dorian folded his arms. “Yes you do. Because none of the others will tell you. But you’re my friend, and I have to be honest.”

She pointed her finger into Dorian's thunderous face. “So it’s okay for your people to keep mine as slaves, but for us to try and regain what we had is too much?” she spat. 

He was unmoved. “When it’ll cause the deaths of thousands, yes.”

She opened her mouth to argue back but bit her tongue. “I’m going to sleep in the forest, it’s what us elf types like to do, not that you’d know anything about that.” She turned on her heel and marched towards the trees, bedroll under her arm.

He called to her retreating back, “No it’s not. It’s what you Dalish want elf types to like to do.”

She said nothing, instead finding a flat patch between two trees and throwing down her bedroll. Who did Dorian think he was? He hadn’t even met a Dalish elf before joining the Inquisition, and now he thought to dictate to her about their entire future? Human arrogance astounded her sometimes.

_Shemlen, not human. Have you forgotten your own tongue too?_

She heard a stirring in the woods. She expected it to be Dorian, and half prepared a scathing comment, but it was Merril, who cautiously placed her bedroll close to hers and lay down. It would not be so bad to have some company, she regretted storming off in such a hurry, as she would not be able to return that night and keep her dignity. 

Merril curled up under her blanket so that only her face was showing. "I hate tents. Sleeping in a house is strange at first, but a tent is so flimsy you might aswell just sleep outside. It’s much nicer out here.”

Lavellan had to agree. It occurred to her that she hadn’t met another Dalish elf who had lived among humans like she had. "What was the Kirkwall Alienage like?" She asked curiously.

Merril shuddered. "Horrible. It was dark and sad, and the other elves didn’t like me very much. A lot of the city elves think we're very pretentious."

Lavellan laughed. "Well we kind of are."

Merril mumbled her agreement. Lavellan pondered for a moment then asked, "Do you think they'd want the gods freed Merril? The city elves?"

Merril shrugged. "I don’t know. Probably not, they’d probably just like a warm house and enough food to eat." Neither of them said anything for a moment, instead sitting in comfortable silence, listening only to the sound of the leaves above them. Lavellan suddenly ached for her home, which surprised her. She had hated it sometimes, and longed to escape into the wider world instead of being trapped with her responsibilities and her loveless partner.

Merril snapped her out of her reverie. "If you don’t get anything else out of this, it is quite a good story, being Fen Harel’s lover. That would even beat my friend Isabella, and she had lots of stories. Can I tell her about it if I see her again?"

Lavellan snorted and clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter before nodding. "Of course you can, that sounds hilarious."

“Thanks. Goodnight lethallan. We should be in Kirkwall by tomorrow afternoon, and then I suppose we shall see.”

“I suppose we shall, good night.”


	4. Chapter 4

"Is this where the elves live?" Lavellan asked, staring around at their truly dismal surroundings. The Kirkwall alienage was, grim, to say the least. And Merrill said it wasn't as bad as it used to be, now that a lot of the elves were relocating to Orlais and the overcrowding was lessened. 

"That's what she said when she first came here" Varric nodded at Merrill, who looked more than a little doleful. 

"It wasn't so bad, honestly, I didn't mind, it was good of Hawke to let me come along when my clan kicked me out."

Varric had pointed out the Amell mansion on the way into the city, and Lavellan pondered how  _good of Hawke_ it was to leave her friend in such a place when she had such a massive home to herself, but didn't voice those thoughts infront of Varric. 

They found Merrill's little house tucked between a boarded up bakery and one particularly unpleasant building that appeared to have recently burned down. Merrill paid them no mind, fumbling in her small pack for her keys. 

Once they were inside, she stopped suddenly as if just remembering something. 

"Oh dear, you lot wait there," she gestured back to the group who remained in the doorway, Lavellan and Dorian placing their staffs into the handily placed umbrella stand Merrill had placed hers in.  

Lavellan paused, "What's-" but was cut off by Varric's scream as a large boulder materialised from the end of the hallway and struck him square in the chest, sending him flying back to the closed door. 

Merrill clapped her hands over her mouth, "Oh Varric I'm so sorry, I set spells to stop thieves but I completely forgot about them." She went to rush to him, but he waved her away and groaned.

"Check there's no other ones first, will you Daisy?" 

"Oh, you're right." 

Merrill blustered around the house, deactivating the other spells she had set, while Lavellan cast a healing spell over Varric's inevitable bruises and pulled Dorian up from the foetal position on the ground, as he had collapsed into a laughing fit as soon as Varric was struck by the rock. 

"Make yourselves comfortable," Merrill called from the kitchen, her shout accompanied by a loud bang and a sudden twittering of birds. Creators knew what she was doing in there. 

"How?" Dorian mumbled, and Lavellan punched him on the arm. 

"Ow!" 

"Be nice," she hissed. Dorian half heartedly punched her back, then clearly remembered he wasn't talking to her so began rubbing his arm in stubborn silence instead. 

In fairness to him, Merrill's home didn't seem the most pleasant place on earth. The dingy living room had only a few wooden chairs in and an old table, and dust had settled on most of the surfaces. 

"Maker, Daisy, you not wanna crack a window or something?" Varric asked, shifting the tattered curtains aside to glance into the street. They had been patched with a garish pink and green spotted material, and Lavellan fought the urge to go and hug her fellow elf. In her youth she had wondered what would happen if she ran off to a shemlen town, even gone so far as to plan where she would go, but was glad that age and wisdom had taught her better. As much as she had felt trapped by her clan, the woods and aravels were preferable to grim streets and dark looks from the locals. 

Merrill emerged from the kitchen."Leave me alone Varric, I've not been here for six months." A substantial amount of soot covered her face, and the end of her jacket appeared to be smouldering. 

No one mentioned it. 

"So, Merril, where's this big mirror?" Varric asked. 

Merril looked surprised, as though she'd only just remembered in her blustering why they were there in the first place. She motioned for the group to follow her and disappeared through a worm eaten door. "Follow me!" 

Varric followed, but when Lavellan stepped forward she felt Dorian grab her arm.  

She turned to him, and he coughed awkwardly. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. It was wrong of me." 

Struck dumb, Lavellan hesitated. She had never known Dorian apologise for anything. When she moved, he flinched as though he expected her to punch him again, but she threw her arms over his shoulders instead. 

"I'm sorry too," she mumbled. "I know you're just worried." 

She giggled inwardly as she felt him try to slowly detach himself from her. She clung around his shoulders regardless. 

"Have you made your decision?" He asked, squirming. 

"Will you shout at me again if I say no?" 

He shook his head and managed to shift himself from her grasp. Dorian only ever hugged you if he initiated it, and even then someone must have died.  _  
_

"No, I won't." He sighed. "You do what you have to do. And bugger the rest of them."

"Are you guys coming or what? We got another dimension raring to go here." Varric called from the other room.

Merrill's eluvian was smaller than Morrigan's, and much less ostentatious.  Merrill herself stood to one side, face red. 

"This is amazing Merrill." Lavellan said in wonder, running her unmarked hand over the wood. It was beaten in places, and had clearly been patched from other sources, but it was solid, and when she touched it the mark on her hand began to itch. 

Merrill's shock was written across her face. "You really think so? I mean I never got it to work but-"

Lavellan placed her marked hand on the glass, but drew back when she didn't feel the hard surface she expected, and her hand instead slipped through the glass as though it was a clear sheet of water. 

Merrill stared. "How did you do that?" she asked. She placed her own hand on the glass but it splayed flat against the surface.

Lavellan would have answered, but without thinking she stepped forward through the glass, and it wasn't until it was too late she realised how badly she'd messed up. 

* * *

 

 

_Shit._

The air around her was filled with a thick fog, as it had been on her last visit. She glanced backwards in the direction she came from, but the glass on this side was clouded over, she could barely make out three shadows on the other side and a faint thumping as one of them was clearly striking the mirror.

_Oh shit._

She barely had time to gather her thoughts when a cool voice spoke from the gloom.

"Why are you here?" 

_Solas._

Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in his appearance. He was thinner than he'd been at Skyhold, his  _apostate hobo_ clothes, as Dorian would have said, were hanging off him. And he looked  _tired,_ so tired, his face was pale and his eyes seemed buried in dark pits. 

She stepped towards him, half expecting him to recoil. All her buried feelings at his desertion bubbled up at once, and without considering the consequences she punched him square in the jaw. Hard. 

He said nothing, merely rubbing his jaw infuriatingly. 

_Say something, say anything you coward._

She went to hit him again but he grabbed her wrist- his reflexes had always been fast. The two stood that way for a moment, and when Solas wrapped his arms around her she didn't resist. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" She mumbled into his prominent collar bone. 

"Because had you asked me to stay then, I would have." He was squeezing her middle to tightly it hurt, but she did not move. 

It was then she made her decision. This could not continue. She drew back from him, placing her hands on his shoulders.   
  
"Come home. Please. This is eating you up inside." She made a mental note to leave this part out when she told Dorian the tale later. 

Solas regarded her with a slightly pitying look, a blue shimmer had crept into his eyes that was not there before. She didn't much want to know where it came from. He shook his head. "No. I can't. It's been too long and I've worked too hard." 

"Is this where you've been this whole time?" 

  
He smiled, shaking his head. "No. But was a good guess. I didn't want you to think all your efforts had been for naught."

She didn't understand. Question heaped upon question. "Then how did you know I'd be here? What's happened to you?" 

"I got the power I needed. I am close now." The shimmer had grown and had taken over his whole eye. Lavellan didn't truly believe that Solas would hurt her, but she was afraid nonetheless. 

Almost whispering, she asked. "Then it's true? You're trying to let the old gods loose?"

He said nothing, and she took that to be a yes. Exasperatedly she continued, "There are other ways Solas, too many people will die. We've already got Briala tearing down alienages as we speak."

Face souring, he spat, "And how did your people react when you rode in on the heels of that _victory,_ securing some freedom for the flat-ears of Orlais? You weren't welcome back with open arms I take it?" 

He knew fine well how they reacted, but she didn't know how he got that knowledge. "How are you doing that? Get out of my head. You would never have done that before." 

He shrugged. "Things are different now." 

_Clearly._

"You know I have to stop you." She tried to speak with force, but her voice faltered. How could they fight a pantheon of pissed off Gods? 

Solas only smirked. "You can try." She had half a mind to punch him again. Would it come to blows here? She wished she hadn't left her staff in Merrill's house. Solas still carried the one she made for him when he complained his was acting up. She wondered if he'd kill her with it, one day.  

Reading her mind, he carried on, "I'm not going to hurt you-"  _Why?_ Lavellan wondered.  _Did you really love me? Or were you keeping an eye on the elven artefact in my hand?_

He continued, "This is a sacred place. We must not fight here." 

_Ah. I should have known._

As though sensing his mistake he corrected himself, "I do not wish to fight you at all vhenan, I want you to be safe. You should return home." He paused. "Blackwall always had a soft spot for you, he would treat you much better than I."

Despite the inappropriateness of the moment Lavellan considered that option. The man was nice enough, but she had caught site of his back hair when he was getting ready to go to sleep one night in camp. She must have shuddered involuntarily because when she glanced back to Solas he was laughing, despite the situation, his eyes back to their normal shade.  _This whole thing is absurd._

"Perhaps not?" he ventured. 

"Perhaps not." She echoed. 

Solas sighed, and she sensed their time was coming to an end. 

"Go home. Gather your armies. We will meet again." 

_That we will._

 "I'm sorry, for what it's worth." He placed a hand on her arm gently, as though he did not dare do more. 

 "I love you-" she blurted out, and knew she would kick herself later for being so weak. "I never said it back to you, I was so angry. I just wanted you to know, for...next time." 

He smiled widely and it was almost like nothing had changed. He stroked the fabric of her jacket idly. "Until then." 

She nodded. "Until then." 

And with that he brushed the surface of the mirror, clearing the fog behind it. Back in Kirkwall Varric and Merrill were leaning on eachother, dosing, while Dorian twirled his fingers anxiously. They all looked up with a start to see her reappear. Without looking back she stepped through and felt the way seal behind her. 

* * *

 

"Holy shit." Varric said. From their expressions they had clearly seen Solas through the mirror. Merrill's eyes were eager, she was clearly desperate to know what happened. Varric just looked confused. Dorian laughed wildly and pulled her into the briefest of hugs, which from him was as good as a parade in her honour.

"I didn't think you were coming back, you've been gone hours." He said, and Varric nodded.  _Had it truly been so long? It felt like minutes._

"Neither did I, for a time." She admitted.

"What happened?" Merrill asked eagerly. Lavellan turned to her and dearly hoped she wouldn't be angry. There would be enough blood spilled, soon enough. 

"Merrill it's all true. All of it. He wants to let them loose." Merrill's eyes widened in shock but Lavellan kept talking lest she lose her nerve, "I couldn't go along with it. We have to stop him. Varric's right, too many people will die. I can't have those lives on my shoulders, not after all we've done. There are other ways." 

To her credit Merrill did not seem upset. "I understand. Can I come with you, to Skyhold? I can help." 

Relieved, Lavellan clasped both of Merrill's hands in her own. "Of course. We'll make it better for them, I promise. But this isn't the way to do it." 

Varric nudged her. "This is nice and everything, but should I send word ahead to Skyhold? If shit's about to get real then they're gunna wanna know." 

"Yes, please. I-" her voice faltered. 

Dorian put his arm over her shoulder, "Are you alright?" 

She felt a rush of affection for her friends. She couldn't have left them, not when all their lives hung so delicately in the balance. 

"I'm fine, honestly. But we should head back to Skyhold as soon as can." They all nodded confidently. She did not deserve their trust in her. 

"Thank you." She said to them all, ignoring Varric's slightly puzzled expression. 

It was time to leave.

There was work to do. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that's my story finished! I know I only posted the last chapter yesterday but I wrote this one a while ago so it was all waiting to go while I got that one out of the way. Thanks for reading and all the lovely comments I've gotten, and I'll probably re-emerge if/when a DLC comes out and I've got feelings to process.
> 
> (something weird has happened to the chapter numbers, it won't list this as 4 out of 4 :'( )


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